Alexander Meets Barsine, Daughter of Artabazos
by Lysis
Summary: A short story about the first meeting between Alexander and Barsine, daughter of the Persian satrap exiled in Pella, Artabazos. Barsine later became Alexander's mistress and bore his son Herakles. This is a childhood story primarily, focusing on what it might have been like as the two met as children and became aquainted with one another.
1. Chapter 1

Alexander Meets Barsine, Daughter of Artabazos, of Persia

Author: Lysis (Copyright 2012)

Summary: Pure fiction. A short story about what Alexander's first meeting with Barsine; daughter of Artabazos might have been like. He later took her as his mistress and was said to have fathered a child, Herakles by her.

Warnings: Vicious kittens.

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Part I

Pella, Macedonia,

About 351 BCE

Carefully holding his breath, he inched his way along the overhanging branch of the tree on his hands and knees. Coming up had not been hard, but quite easy. He had practiced in his head for several minutes before he had begun. The trick he found was to close his eyes and see himself placing his hands and feet in just the right places. The bark of the tree had been rough beneath his small feet, and had torn a hole in his blue mantle, the one his mother had embroidered with vines and prancing lions. He'd clasped the limb tightly and grasped at the small branches for leverage.

He had gained the large branch and scooted along on his bottom a bit to get a better seat. What was even better he had outwitted his slaves and Lanike, his nurse's watchful eye and had run free. The orchard was glorious – it was early in the month of Artemisius, and though still a bit cool in the early morning hours, by the 11th hour of the morning by the water clock in the great courtyard, the sun was well overhead and the ground warm he could run about without a chiton or mantle. He had heard a noise while he was stalking through the early flowers of one of the palace gardens, pretending he was hunting boar in the great woods. Casting his head about in the direction of the sound, he had heard its call. He had looked up then and seen the small creature perched on the limb of the largest oak. It had beckoned to him with a tiny paw.

"Wait, stay, I'll come for you." He smiled easily, now here was a task worthy of Herakles, his mighty ancestor. He would rescue the little creature and perhaps win a great prize from the gods for such bravery. He squinted into the blinding light of Helios whose glow seemed to touch everything and paint it in gold. Perhaps Apollo himself would allow him to drive his chariot across the Heavens. Yes, he would like such a prize. The kitten, yes, for it was kitten was perched high up in one of the apple-laden branches. The little beast opened its mouth and called out again. He pursed his lips studying it. It was grey of coat with little white paws. His sister, Kleopatra had such a kitten. He'd seen her with it just days ago carrying it about as though it were a doll, wrapped in a bit of shawl she'd no doubt begged from their Mother or her nurse. Perhaps the kitten ran away, seeking to escape such a terrible fate. Girls, ugh, Alexander twisted his small face up thinking on the subject. He did not have much care for girls. The soldiers in his father's army, yes, now by all that was sacred to Apollo, he smiled as he tried out the oath in his mind. He had heard his father utter that just a fortnight ago. He liked the sound of it. By all that was sacred to Apollo, he continued, he would do anything to spend time in barracks or in the guardroom at the palace. Already, he had made several true friends amongst the troops there. Let them seek him amongst the soldiers, but not among the other children. No by Hecate, he giggled, that one he had heard from his mother's own lips when she thought he was out of earshot. By Hecate, he continued, and by all that was sacred to Apollo, he would spend his time in the pursuits of glory and honor.

There it was, piercing green eyes stared at him and the little mouth opened as he edged closer. Its small meow told of its fear. "Don't be frightened, I'm here. I've come to rescue you. I'm Alexander, I live just up there." As he spoke he flung a hand backward toward the quarters in the second story of the place, he shared with his half-brothers. "I am of the line of Achilles and Herakles. I've strong blood in me from great heroes, and will aid you." He stretched out his hand toward the kitten and smiled. It was very small, and looked frightened as it sank back huddled against the end of the branch. Studying it closer he saw a glittering collar of gems upon its small neck. It was the grey one he had seen trotting about the stables yesterday. Its mother was the big silvery Persian he had seen Artabazos, his father's Persian guest friend carrying around and stroking as though it were a much-loved babe.

Artabazos, the barbarian from Persian, he recalled the man's face. He was immensely tall, with long flowing black hair and his long, dyed and scented beard that smelt of spices. He had arrived a fortnight ago with his family and retainers. He, Alexander, who had just turned five summers one month ago, not out of the nursery yet, had not met them, but he had seen the man with his father and had seen the cat. Cats were common enough indeed, in Pella, but not one such as this. Its long silky fur was soft as a baby's breath and it had bright blue eyes. The man has smiled easily when he was talking with his father and seemed much at ease among the Macedonian court. Yet he was Persian, Alexander had been confused at this. He recalled faintly the story his grandmother had recalled to him of the servitors of Xerxes, the barbarian king who had come to Macedon to seek water and land. Eurydice told him, one day when he was older, she would take him to the deep woods down in Agai to where it was said Xerxes' men were buried and there they would piss on their graves. That was the true welcome Macedon had given Xerxes.

"Never forget, Alexander, we are of strong blood and an ancient line, going back to Heracles himself. We bow to no man." She had told him. He had taken it to heart and locked this knowledge deep inside himself. Now as he glanced at the kitten, he wondered would a kitten of Persian descent be any different from one of Macedonian?

He had spied on this barbarian tracking him through the palace, running from pillar to pillar in the great audience hall until his father's chamberlain had seen him and sent him back to the arms of his nurse, Lanike. He had rebelled refusing to stay in the nursery with his half-brothers, Arrhidaios or little Sabattarus. In fact, he had been terrible to them all, refusing to take part in their little games or lay on his small bed of olive wood and listen to stories. He would interrupt their stories with terrible roars like the Hydra and then run and kick over their little play houses and dolls. He insisted they play Troy and all the other children were to be the Trojans. This has caused a fit of commotion with his cousin, Cyrene, and his sister, Kleopatra, who insisted they would be Myrmidons.

"No! No!" He had raged at them, "You are silly girls, what do girls know of battle? You," he pointed to his sister, "You will be Kassandra, and you", he pointed regally as he had seen his mother do to her serving maids, to his half-brother . "You will be Astyanax. You will be thrown from the cliff." At that, Arrhidaios had screamed and insisted he would play Hektor and Alexander and he began to scuffle and roll about the tiled floor. Only, his older cousin, Amyntas his long dead uncle Perdikkas' son had been able to pull them apart. Amyntas seemed to have placed himself along Ptolemy, son of Lagos over the care of Alexander. However, the youth had suggested that perhaps his cousin needed a warrior as a nurse and not the Lady Hellenike, sister of Black Kleitos. Amyntas had been a great friend, but he had recently entered into training as a page and Alexander missed him dearly. He had been out of sorts and bad tempered ever since.

Finally Lanike, tired and frustrated with his behavior had threatened to send him to the barracks to do the backbreaking work of the common solider, digging ditches and breastworks.

"Send me let me be with the soldiers, then!" He had shouted as loudly as he dare and jumped up and down on the yellow and red coverlet of his bed. "I'll eat gruel and make my bed on the hard ground. I don't mind. Such a life is fit for me. I want a life of great deeds." Lanike had rolled her eyes at his tantrum and put him to bed with only an egg posset for his supper. He had sulked all the next day and been sullen whenever she had spoken to him. When his Mother had called him to her chambers, near suppertime, he had been chastened and apologized for his behavior.

"Come, I'll not harm you." He leaned forward stretching his hand just within reach of the kitten's silken fur. It moved forward, he would reach it, and then a swift paw reached out leaving a track of blood and sharp stinging pain in its wake.

"You….. that hurt!" He blinked back sudden tears as he glared at the little animal. "I've come to rescue you." He cradled his hand and stuck out his lower lip narrowing his blue eyes at the beast. "Have you no friendly feelings toward me?" He had heard his father say that to his mother just the day before and tried it on feeling it suited the situation. He studied his hand and bent his head to lick the red blood. He sniffed loudly, the scratch hurt more than he had expected and he looked about uncertainly for his nurse.

"Lanike!" He shouted loudly feeling suddenly very small and wanting to go back to the safety of her arms. Then he heard it – the sound came from below, laughter and a girl's sharp voice. She spoke in Greek with an accent, but all the same, he knew the purport of her words. His father spoke Greek and their own tongue, that of the true lords of these proud lands, Macedonian. He knew a little Greek, he had listened to Eumenes, his father's secretary, the man was Greek and knew everything – as much as his father, at least. She was laughing at him! By Apollo's balls, how dare she!

He leaned down letting his head fall over the side of the tree, there stood a girl, Persian by the look of her clothing; he caught these things rather quickly. She had long, long dark braids hidden under a scarf of some filmy material the color of pale grass and was at least as old as his cousin Cyrene. She looked up at him, her eyes sparkling.

"Be silent, woman!" Alexander roared mimicking his father. For a moment, the girl stared up at him, her dark brown eyes wide with astonishment.

"Ah, it speaks, I did not know if you were a mute or no." She teased. He narrowed his eyes at her, suddenly aware the kitten had come down the branch and was standing near him, licking his bleeding hand. Feeling very brave with the kitten by his side, Alexander shook his fist at the girl.

"Interloper," he called down to her. "I am Alexander, son of Phillippos, who are you, a- a girl," He paused searching for the right words, he wanted to sound menacing like his father when he spoke to an emissary he didn't like, or at least that was how he imagined his father spoke. "You are a girl and matter none to me." He stuck his little chin out and without another word slide down the tree skinning his legs along the way. For a moment, he shut his eyes to the pain of the burn along his knees. The girl would not be quiet. She continued to tease him. At least he was sure that was what she was doing. His feet touched the ground, the kitten landed along with him and shot away quickly toward a clump of bushes. Alexander rose upon his toes, for she was unfortunately much taller than he and shook his fist again in her face. "Woman," He shouted again mimicking his father best he could. "Anger me not!" With that pronouncement, he darted away following the path of the kitten. He reached a thick row of bushes. The kitten had sought shelter somewhere here. Feeling a sense of commradery with the small creature, he burrowed deeply into the green shadows. Once he was sure of the security of his leafy fortress he fell in a tight bundle wrapping his arms about himself, and gave way to his tears. He was a ball of stinging pain and although he would admit it to no one, least of all that-that girl! His small fingers sought his sore and bleeding knees and probed the wounds there. He was feeling very small and unsure of himself. Again, he called out the name of his nurse and crept forward poking his head forth from the bushes.

"Do you call for your nurse?" She had followed him and knelt down before the bush. "Your knees are gashed and your hand bleeds. The men in my family bear their wound well. They do not cry." It was too much, not to be countenanced any longer, Alexander decided and in that moment forgetting all the rules he'd been taught leaned forward with his small fist balled and landed a blow on her small, perfect pink lips. She cried aloud in shock and grabbed her assailant. He bit the hand restraining him, kicked at her freeing himself, and ran. He ran for all he was worth straight into the strong arms of one of his father's men, Black Kletios, son of Dropsides.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

PART TWO - Alexander Meets Barsine

Picks up right where Part 1 leaves off.

Alexander backed away for a moment and stared upward at the tall figure looming down over him. Like the sound of Zeus in the skies above a deep voice boomed out, "Ah, Alexander what little game do you play now?" Kleitos was his nurse, Lanike's brother, and instantly he launched himself at his knees.

"An enemy has breached our walls!" The little boy yelled wildly as Kleitos held onto the small hand clutching at his.

"An enemy?" Half- alarmed, but more amused Kleitos glanced around but saw nothing out of order. He showed a mouthful of large white teeth as he grinned at Alexander who was shouting about preparing themselves. He knew the boy enjoyed these little games. Indeed, he had taught him quite a few. It seems the Persians had come again, demanding water and earth and was pointing in the direction of the orchard. Kleitos could see nothing wrong. However, he did hear crying and the sound of running footsteps through the long grass. A young girl came toward him. She was scarcely more than a child herself. Her headdress disheveled and her face wet with tears. The corner of her mouth was bleeding and she ran straight to Alexander who had his back turned to her.

"That boy hit me!" She cried out pointing toward Alexander who had now taken up a position between the strong legs of Kleitos. "Is this to be allowed? I am the daughter of Artabazos, guest friend of King Phillip of Macedon. Is this how he allows visitors to his capital to be treated?" She was haughty and her voice became high and shrill as nervousness took over.

"She comes to demand our fealty. I will not give it." Alexander' little voice called out his position implacably.

Barsine frowned upon hearing the boy's words. What demands for fealty, she knew nothing of this? "He has bitten and hit me. He is a ... a... a little misfit, a beast!" She yelled back struggling to keep control of herself. How dare this child, this scruffy little creature call her such names!

"She threatened my defenses. I did nothing but protect my honor. " Alexander proclaimed in reply before Kleitos had even opened his mouth to speak. He shut his mouth quickly. It was uncanny, almost as though the boy had read his thoughts.

"Did you hit this girl?" Kleitos asked him carefully keeping an eye on the girl who had stopped crying and was glaring angrily at them both. He was uncertain how to proceed and frown a moment, then sighed. This was a child's squabble, women's work. Something for his sister to settle, he amended, as she was Alexander's nurse. He had decided it would be futile to explain to Alexander that this small girl was no threat to him or Pella. He knew the boy had a love for the tales of his forefathers, and indeed, Kleitos, himself agreed were they threatened he would be the first to jump toward actions.

Alexander moved like quicksilver and faced him. His appeared as disciplined as a solider on parade and answered him quite proudly, "Yes, I did."

Kleitos' stifled a smile as he glanced up at the girl. She had the look of the Persian exiles that had come to Pella lately. The troop had taken several of them on for training. There were two brothers Rhodians who had joined Parmenion's troop. He scratched his head for a moment. He could not recall much more about them. Nor could he help but smile as he studied Alexander. The boy now stood staunchly at his side, his small hands formed into firm little fists. The spirit of a warrior already fills the boy, Kleitos thought proudly. The boy had not lied as another child might. He had owned up to his actions.

"I will take any punishment you give me." Alexander piped up in his lilting sweet voice. "You may send me to the stockade. I will go peacefully and not fight with you."

"We will see what punishment Lanike metes out to you, but you have carried yourself well and I am pleased." Was Kleitos' reply.

Barsine gasped as she heard the soldier address the little boy. Little monster, she corrected in her mind. Why did the man not take him and beat him for this? Did her brothers act so they would have been soundly beaten. Perhaps she would seek her brother Pharnabazus' aid. Was he about? If he were by her side, she would not feel so unsure. Suddenly she wished with all her heart for a sign of her tall, black haired brother. She thought she had spied him earlier by the great stable block. Her gaze moved in that direction but it did little good. She could see little through the great bulk of the warrior standing before her. He appeared quite large to her now. There was such fierceness in his manner. She could see why the Rhodians, Mentor, and Memnon were so taken with King Phillip's army. If warriors such as this man standing before her were its heartbeat, they were indeed a formidable foe. She knew that both Mentor and Memnon had joined the general Parmenion's troop. She heard through her younger brothers who heard through their older brothers how brilliant the general was and how sly and astute King Phillip was in all things military.

However, that would not gain her redress against the little beast. She began to cry in earnest as her eyes met with the steady gaze of the tall, black-bearded soldier who faced her. She knew that she would find no comfort here.


	3. Chapter 3

Part 3, Alexander Meets Barsine

Again, just picks up from Part 2

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"By Hecate's black dugs!" Black Kleitos swore noisily as he watched the young girl burst into loud tears. He was not some nursemaid! Awkwardly he moved toward the girl but caught himself. What knew he of soothing crying children? He stomped his foot, another oath ready when he caught the girl's expression. She looked stunned.

"Pan's bent prick! Alexander?" The boy's small hand was tugging insistently at his mantle. Kleitos leaned down impatiently. His face was beaming up at him, his little eyes full of bright interest. 'Zeus save me.' Kleitos moaned silently as the boy whispered in his ear. He reared back and shook his head strongly.

"No!" He bellowed. "You will not repeat that oath, Alexander! By Zeus'….. ! Oh, Apo- by great Hera's peacock! No!" Kleitos' sputtered, how did one speak with children? No matter, he told himself, something must be done before this one began to sing oaths out loudly as nursery songs. How had he learned so many so quickly? "Do I hear you repeat me, I will you punish well and good! Alexander?" The boy's blue eyes were wide with interest, and his golden head was bobbing up and down like a ball, but his expression told a different story.

Moving quickly, Kleitos grabbed a passing soldier and shouted in his face. "Go and seek, my sister, the Lady Hellanike, young Alexander's nurse. Be quick man! Put some speed to it!" He repeated his orders as he pulled Alexander to stand at his side. He did not like the lay of the land, and could feel the pent up energy in the little boy's body. He was trying very hard to behave, Kleitos did believe that, but for this child, that had often been a difficult thing. He was high-spirited and often found among the soldiers where his father preferred him. The rough and tumble world of the barracks seemed to suit his persistent energy and precocious nature. Of late, his cousin, Amyantas had entered page duty and so he had lost a playmate. Amyantas was the son of the King's dead brother, Perdikkas, and there had been some talk up until two years ago of him being Philip's heir, but that had stopped when he was stricken with brain fever. He had mended and was hale and strong, but seemed to lack the brilliant shine that this little one had. Philip had taken the boy under his care, it was his duty as the oldest male in his family, but he had not called together a Companion's group when the boy reached thirteen as it had thought he might have done were he his heir. So now, Alexander was roaming the courts, gardens, and guardhouse alone or with some other little miscreant, and stirring up trouble wherever he went.

"I am called Barsine. My father, Artabazos is King Phillip's guest friend. I require that you find my nurse for me!" The girl had ceased her sobs and was dabbing at her bleeding mouth with a silken cloth. She stood before him glaring back at Alexander.

Kleitos could feel the tension like a taut rope strung between the two children they were making faces at one another. Alexander raised his small-fisted hand toward the girl who was sneering - twisting her sweet little mouth into a contemptuous moue. He put his hand heavily on Alexander' shoulder to keep him in place. For a moment, he felt sorry for Barsine. He rolled the syllables of her name over in his mind, but then squelched the feeling. He had no time to deal with two fractious children.

Ptolemy was waiting for him at the guardhouse. He had to be on duty within the hour. He had not yet eaten his midday meal. He swore silently. By Apollo what wrong had he committed that he had to deal with these two? The farmer in the Pella he had cuckolded or the guard duty he had skipped. Was it one of those? Telemon had covered for him. No one had found out. Ohhh," he moaned again silently and raised his face skyward. Father Zeus, he intoned wordlessly. The girl - it had been only that once…. Well, perhaps it was twice. By the gods, he had meant no harm. She was young, comely; she had vexed him with her smile and those breasts. She said her husband would not mind, he ignored her so. She was lonely. She had certainly been willing. Philip had said if there was trouble to come to him. Nevertheless, ah, yes, the gods knew all. No, there was nothing for it. This was his chastisement.

He turned to Barsine, she was standing like a little general, arms crossed, eyeing him curiously like an enemy yet to be deciphered. For a moment he baulked, no, not all females were alike. They could not read a man's mind. She was a child yet, a pretty child to be sure, but a child nonetheless. How came she to wander without her nurse or ever present eunuch? He grimaced feeling suddenly uncomfortable. Eunuchs, just the sight of them could put a man off. These Persians had brought theirs with them, one was a great, fat creature neither woman nor man it seemed. Then there was the other, he had heard of through Krateros, whom from behind one might easily mistake for a woman. Perhaps… No! He shook himself and spit, ridding himself of the thought; he liked his hands full of soft, plump breasts when fucking. He shivered for a moment then caught himself and turned his attention to the quandary on his hands.

He cleared his throat and addressed the girl with as much courtesy as he could muster. "Where is your nurse? How do you come to be about the palace grounds unescorted- it is forbidden! You must know that for a girl or women of your rank to walk about alone. Be you in Persia or here in Macedon the custom is the same. Ah, there do not fuss with that, you must keep your face veiled." Kleitos knew the tone of his words were sharp, but she would play with that filmy piece of silk, those eyes…. He cleared his throat again and tried to look hard. Too hard, for the girl's head drooped and she began to wipe her eyes. Silently, Kleitos' cursed himself. There was no need to be so sharp. She was after all, only a child.

"Why do you cry? _My_ sisters do not cry. Nothing can cause _them _to cry." Alexander' heckling voice cut across the distance between them. Kleitos found himself praying to Holy Zeus that someone, anyone would come and rescue him. Quickly, he scanned the horizon for any sign of his sister. Zeus take the woman, where was she? He would rather fight a thousand screaming Illyrians than deal with these two. The girl's dark eyes showed fury in spite of the tears. And, Alexander? Well, one might as well try to hold back a lion ready to pounce.

"I do not cry a cinder pesters my eyes." She answered in a haughty little voice and rubbed her eye thoroughly to act convincingly. "Did your nurse teach you not to stare so? It is quite rude." Then she turned directing her remarks to Kleitos. Are all Macedonian babies allowed to be so rude?"

"I am not a baby!" Instantly Alexander sprang forward, his fist just inches from her mouth.

"Enough! Alexander!" He roared and pulled him back but not before he had grabbed hold of the girl's headdress. A loud rip attested to the good stomping to which Alexander' small feet were treating it. The girl's eyes were black with outrage and she took a step forward, hand outstretched to deliver her own punishment.

"You… you little beast!" She screamed furiously as she tried to piece together the torn veiling. "That is my favorite veil!"

"Then I am pleased I have ruined it!" Greatly exasperated Kleitos yanked Alexander back as the boy threatened to fly forward again. He felt the fabric of Alexander' cloak tear beneath his rough treatment, but he did not care.

"For that you will beg her pardon. Now!" Kleitos ordered, but wrapped his hand strongly around the neck of Alexander' cloak to hold him in place. It was akin to holding back an angry dog. "You go nowhere until I release you. This girl is a guest of your fathers'. You do not abuse guest friends. It is a sin against the gods." Alexander growled deep in his throat but stood in place.

Kleitos glanced at his unexpected charge. Alexander' little legs were smeared with blood as well as his right hand. It looked as though he had been smearing some mixture of mud and something thing else…perhaps that was better left alone on his small body. Ah, yes, he had been quite intrigued with the blue whorls on the Thracian slaves; no doubt, the mud was to mimic that. His face was dirty. The fact that his nurse had managed to keep his cloak on him this long was quite a feat. He wore the yellow-bordered cloak, such as the royal pages wore. Now, however, the garment looked like it had been dragged in river mud. Kleitos smiled in spite of his frustration. He liked the spirited little boy.

The girl saw and began to glower up at him. She had a very sweet little face, delicate black eyebrows arched over large, thickly black lashed eyes. Her mouth was full and expressive, quivering just now with hurt. Her cheeks were high, and smooth. She was not tall, but seemed perfect of form. She was graceful and her face expressive. Already he could see the woman she would become. A beauty of that there was no doubt. He glanced down at Alexander. He was breathing more slowly and seemed more relaxed. The long golden lashes over his large eyes, which he was sure, were more an angry grey at the moment, than that pure sea blue fluttered as the boy look up at him. Aye, he had his mother's eyes – that silvery blue-grey. Eyes like Zeus' thunder bolt. However, his expression, the mulish obstinacy, well, that was all his father. His little mouth pursed as he wrinkled his nose and made a face. Even though he was only five summers, he was beginning to show the promise of his mother's beauty and his father's proud bearing. He was headstrong and willful. Good traits for a warrior thought Kleitos. He could feel the heat of the boy's body beneath his fingers. It was as though his entire body was humming with energy. He was like a sprightly little pony, full of vigor and wild strength. He found himself tightening his fingers down just as Alexander began to move forward, again.

"Have you nothing to say, Alexander?" Low growls filled the air. Kleitos rolled his eyes and shook the boy. "Alexander, you try my temper." Kleitos noticed the girl was watching him intently. He did not need to read minds to know the thoughts in hers.

"This _woman _she tries my temper". Kleitos was on the verge of laughing, at the clear parroting of Phillip's voice in the little boy's words but then decided against it. It would hurt the boy's pride. Alexander clearly saw the girl as an odd species. "Send me to the stockade. I will take my punishment there." Alexander little voice cut into his musings as he yanked on his mantle. "I do not believe I can act a good soldier further. I've no wish to cause you grief and dishonor my regiment or ancestors."

Alexander was not an unreasonable child. Indeed, he could be quite well behaved when treated reasonably and intelligently. The Lady Olympias, had done well with him, he was a lusty child, brave, forward in his years, young though they were and quite astounding already in all things warlike. He was in many ways already his father in little when it came to the soldiers. He knew all the names of those on guard in the palace, when their duty rotations were, where and how many times they had been wounded, even the names of their lovers, and pets. He was a child to be proud of and already, clearly a beloved pet amongst the troops. For a moment, all seemed quiet. Perhaps he could release the two children and take a quick meal. He turned to Barsine, the words on his lips when a small grey kitten bounded up to Alexander' feet. The boy picked it up holding it possessively in his grip, whispering to it while the girl gasped loudly.

"Return me my kitten." The girl stamped a small foot. Alexander ignored her, instead tucked the kitten close in his arm, tilted his little head to one side, and began to hum, loudly.

"That is my kitten. Give it me now." She sprang forward but Alexander was quicker and sprang backward behind Kleitos.

"He prefers the company of soldier's can you not see that? See what a bold kitten he is? He scorns to be with a girl. He would have the life of a warrior." He was now holding the little beast swinging it back and forth in his hands. That the kitten was meowing loudly did not help.

"Little beast! Little filthy, scruffy, ooowww!" A string of words escaped from the girl's sweetly curving lips. Kleitos did not need a translator to tell him they were clearly not appropriate to a young child. Alexander was petting the little kitten and calling it "Audnaeus."

"That is not its name!"

"'Tis now, I've renamed him. This is Macedonia. He must have a Macedonian name. Not a silly name some silly girl gave him."

For a moment, Kleitos almost laughed aloud when the girl raised one very fine black eyebrow and said cuttingly, "Mikros is a female."

Kleitos sighed aloud in exasperation as he observed a flush like sweet red wine run straight up through Alexander' little neck and face. He could feel the trembling in his small limbs. "Gods no!" He intoned pleadingly. "By all that is sacred, Apollo, save me." Alexander dropped the kitten, and screamed loudly echoing a battle paean before launching himself at the unprepared girl. She fell like a rickety, wooden fence beneath the onslaught of Alexander' fists.

"Alexander!" Kleitos' roared and yanked the boy back by the back of his chiton. It tore under his brusque grip. It prevented nothing, as Alexander was leaning forward from the waist with one of Barsine's long braids in his grubby fist. Kleitos picked him up and held him while the girl pulled herself to her feet. She wasn't crying now, but looked angry enough to kill and swearing, clearly Persian or not he knew swearing. Alexander was struggling with him, his small legs flailing against his knees, squirming, and swearing like the most seasoned of veterans.

"Release me! " Alexander' shrieked. "I swear by Dionysius cock, Pan's bent..." Alexander was huffing as Kleitos slapped a hand over his mouth. Still the words came tumbling out. "By Apollo's blue balls..." Had he not been so frustrated Kleitos would have burst out laughing. At least Barsine's behavior was seemly. Kleitos shrugged, he would expect nothing less from a daughter reared in the courts of Persia. Still, one never knew. He nodded at the girl who was standing watching Alexander with almost shocked awe.

"Enough, both of you!" Kleitos bawled as if he was dressing down the rawest recruit. He swung away keeping Alexander firmly in his grasp. He dropped him to his feet and shook him roughly.

"You!" He barked sharply at Alexander. "You will go immediately to the stockade, there, where Telemon and Ptolemy are. Tell them you are on punishment detail. You will have no supper! Do not stop, turn about, or speak to anyone on the way. Do you hear me! Do you disobey my order you will receive five lashes at beginning of the next watch. NOW march!" He heard the girl's gasp, but Alexander gave him a salute and walked proudly with his small shoulders thrown back toward his fate.

He studied the small retreating figure of Alexander as the boy trudged off at a quick pace toward Telemon and Leommedon who were on guard duty. Where Ptolemy was he neither knew nor cared at that moment. He knew the boy would obey orders if treated as a warrior and not a child. Were his sister to manage him thus she would have less trouble. He had told her this recently. She had distained this approach. Clearly, Alexander knew he would not receive the threatened lashing, but at least it got him away from the girl. Still, something must be done with the boy; he was too much for the women to handle any longer. Perhaps he would have a word with Phillip.

Kleitos noted by their quick smiles that Alexander must already have greeted them, as they were saluting him, right hand to their heart, as they did his father. The boy saluted them back and clearly, by his stance he was bragging. He had thrust out his small arm in their face, the one that the cat had scratched no doubt. War wounds, Kleitos smiled again, that's what the boy was no doubt calling them. He began to move away when the girl's voice called him back to himself.

"Will he really be lashed?" The girl stood now by his side. He could hear her gulp as she began to move quickly away from him. "I…, I will find my nurse myself." Before he could utter another word, she took off at a fast run. So fast, indeed that he was surprised at the girl's speed. The little kitten, the cause of all their discord raced swiftly past her and clawed its way back up a tree. There it hung its small head over a leafy limb and began to meow loudly.

To be continued….


	4. Chapter 4

Part IV, Alexander Meets Barsine

Summary: About three weeks after the kitten episode. Alexander is on a "scouting" mission near the lake below Pella's acropolis and encounters his new enemy, the Barbarian, Barsine.

* * *

The small boy clambered up the side of the great lake below Pella's acropolis to watch some passersby. Quickly, for he heard the sounds of creaking wagon wheels and horses' neighing he took shelter hiding behind a clump of thick rushes that grew along the lakeshore. He was clothed in a small mantle, which had once been blue. He had tossed the mantle over one shoulder in a jaunty style he had seen several of the officers wear. He nibbled an apple core and sniffed the air, hoping it might rain again. It had earlier, and he had greeted the rising day with a great whoop of excitement and run from his nurse Lanike's hands and the frustrated grasp of her attendant slaves before they could catch him.

Even Lanike's irritated shrieking of his name "Alexander! Alexander!", had not stopped him. Giggling, he had dashed from the bedchamber he shared with several half-brothers, not even pausing to tie a sandal string on the way. The loose flapping of the sandal had finally earned it a good smacking as it landed against a nearby wall and he had scampered on barefoot.

He had planned it all the night before. He had stashed his cloak nearby behind a statue of Apollo and he made a gesture of respectful thanks as he had gathered it as he had run toward the kitchens. There he had plundered the baker's morning batch of wheat buns and made off with several along with some cheese and fruit. Feeling much pleased with his early morning escape he had snuck past the duty guard and made off with his puppy toward the barracks.

There, after having a second breakfast, for a growing boy is always hungry he watched the early maneuvers of some soldier's, stopping to see if there were any wounded and spend a little time with old Nikolaos, a retired kitchen slave, whom he visited often. Finally, Alexander had made his way toward the lake. It had been his destination all the time. It was one of his favorite places. He knew Lanike would not come to search for him there. Oh, she would send his slaves, Timon and Icrethios, but they could be easily spotted.

Icrethios was easily distracted. He often stopped to glance at any birds nearby. He had a little scroll he would record them in and Timon would stop when a pretty girl passed by. Timon was born in the Roman provinces, and had lived in Syracuse before he had been sold to the household. He was dark haired, smiled often and laughed easily. Best of all he would play any game Alexander could create, run for miles, climb, and jump and would let Alexander ride on his back as though Alexander was a great general and Timon, a strong and powerful warhorse. He had been purchased recently to watch over him. He liked him and had almost asked him to join him, but then had decided against it. It was better to go off alone when one is scouting the boy decided. There is less distraction and the enemy will get fewer captives to torture in the event of capture. He did not plan on being caught, but one never knew the enemy's positions in the field, so he decided as he had made his plans the night before not to include Timon.

"Enemy, coming slowly, Phoenix, but we must be on guard. It could be a diversion to draw us out from the shelter of our position and waylay us." Alexander gestured to his companion to stay silent as he crouched lower beneath the thick rushes. The puppy lay silently next to him, its small tail wagging, but it did not utter a sound only snuggled into its master's arm. Alexander could hear the croak of a frog nearby and had to decide for a moment to let go the desire to run and catch it. He knew that frog by its croak. It was a big, fat green bullfrog. He had seen it many a time at the lake's edge. He almost turned his head, but stopped himself in time.

Female voices, several of them were young sounding likes his sisters and cousins came toward him. There was at least a wagonload; he counted seven young girls and three older women. He did not see his mother or Lanike and heaved a deep sigh of relief. The women wore colorful dresses of yellow, blue, and red beneath their _himitions, which_ were pulled up over their heads. Two of the older women were other wives of his father and they had golden rings in their ears and golden links about their necks that flashed like the sun itself. The younger girls and one of the women had flowers, roses, and small field flowers, like daisies in their hair that peeped out from beneath the folds of their _himitions_. He could smell sweet perfume as they passed by. Some were his half- sisters and the others were the barbarian ones, daughters his father's newest guest friends. For a moment, he held his breath. Would _she_ be among them? He scrutinized the passing wagon carefully. He had seen nothing of the girl in the days that had followed his rescue of Audnaeus, the kitten. He had gone often to the stables to play with it. Once he had brought it to his rooms and he and his brothers had played with it, but they had gotten tired and fallen asleep and when he had woken, it was gone.

In the last few weeks, he had been most careful where he had gone, not wishing to encounter the girl again. It was his most fervent wish that she had taken ill and died.

Quickly he counted an escort of six guards. It appeared the women were going on a picnic for a smaller second wagon appeared with several slaves bearing baskets and musicians. There would be food. He was hungry again. For a moment he was torn. One of the guard, Alexander, son of Myron, had a new horse, a lovely grey mare with a high prancing step. He knew just how to finagle a ride on her. No, it would not do, he decided, he was on assignment, he could not abandon his post. He watched them pass with a keen, quick eye then heaved a great sigh and slid back down the muddy hill toward a small bundle beside which the puppy already sat.

"That _girl_ has been banished from our shores. I am sure of it, Phoenix. I saw naught of her above. We can rejoice and I will offer sacrifices to the gods in honor of this occasion." Feeling resplendent, his feet, and lower legs covered with a silky coating of mud, Alexander spoke to the puppy at his side. The sun was warm against his small bare back and his toes felt wonderful buried in the muddy richness at the lake's edge. He wiggled them and smiled. All was well Zeus had heard his prayers. He had seen neither sight nor heard the slightest sound of his enemy. He was certain that she was gone far away from Pella, hopefully back to Persia. It mattered little so long as he did not set eyes upon her again. Resting as though having fought a great battle he leaned back, his small head upon his arm and surveyed his surroundings. The large lake was ringed by thick, dark forests. Although lately, the forest had been cut back, mostly on the side nearest the city, to make room for a larger parade ground for the army when his father garrisoned a large unit in Pella.

For a moment the boy frowned, and scratched a fleabite so hard, it bled. He examined the bright red blood that welled up on his sun-browned skin. He tasted it and made a face.

"It tastes of salt, Phoenix. Do you find the same taste when you lick blood?" He paused patiently while the grey and white puppy squirmed around to its heart's delight on the muddy flats that bordered the large blue-green lake. Both boy and dog were more mud colored than any other hue, and both seemed equally pleased with it. Diligently Alexander applied his small already bloodied fingers to scratch at another bite. He watched the blood welling from the small wound. He scratched at another and then applied a quick bit of mud. Lanike sometimes applied a bit of mud to bee stings. She said it worked well for bites and scratches. Leaning over he checked his small companion for some bite or mark he might doctor in such a manner. Finding none, he concluded that fleas did not bite puppies, or at least mud covered ones.

"You have fared better than I, Phoenix. I've three, four … seven bites in all. See how they bleed." Feeling rather proud he smeared the blood on his legs and then daubed a finger in it to write his name upon his arm. "There, see that is the first symbol of my name, and there is yours." He pointed to the Alpha and the Pi that he had carefully traced on the smooth skin.

"Girls cannot do such things, Phoenix; they have not been blessed by the gods with such intelligence as you and I." He lay back smiling thinking on this great thing. Yes, he had heard his father say that women were good only for their property, money and to warm a man's bed at night. He had been puzzled by this last. He had found Phoenix a good companion to warm his bed on a cool night. What need had he of a woman? Perhaps his father had not found a good dog, he frowned again, his small mind-spinning full of thoughts and schemes. Perhaps he would ask, Leander, the stable master if any new bitches were breeding. He would find his father the right dog. Yes, by Zeus that was what the man needed! He had heard that last night at the soldier's mess.

"By Zeus, Phoenix, we will find him the right dog and he will no more be cold or lonely at night."

As he lay there, Alexander wondered what sacrifice would be appropriate to honor the gods who assisted in ridding him of his foe. He had prayed to Herakles and Apollo. Herakles because he too had been struck with terrible foes who had stood in the way of his work and great deeds and Apollo because his father often sacrificed to the golden haired god. He would also offer sacrifice to Dionysius, his mother's god. He had often heard her say that the god would answer any prayer from those who came to him with an honest heart. Well, Alexander decided he had an honest heart. He had with his whole being, honestly desired the girl to be gone. He told Dionysius all about it and Herakles, again, as well, last night as he worked in the barracks cleaning up after the soldier's supper. He had willingly done the chores Kleitos had told him were his punishment, imaging he was working along side an invisible Herakles. He recalled how the Hero had cleaned out the stables of King Augeas and had begged Kleitos for such a deed, but he had said no, five years was too young to clean stables.

"Wait a year or two, then I will set you to this duty. I promise you will come to despise it." The black bearded warrior had said with a grimace. He had come from his guard duty late and was grumpy because he had missed his ration of wine.

Alexander's punishment had lasted a good deal longer than he thought was fair, but he would not shirk his duty and daily, for the last three weeks had turned up every evening at the barracks. He had no knowledge that this had been decided upon not only by Kleitos but had been greatly and strongly supported by his sister Lanike. It was also then that Timon had been purchased at his mother's command. She had agreed that Lanike could not run about all over the palace compound and Pella proper searching for her wayward charge. He had his usual military escort of two young troopers who watched out for him, but he had also waylaid them this morning, as he often did, and was feeling quite smug and pleased with himself. Timon had been able easily, being only 15 years old to keep up with his young charge.

Gleefully, Alexander thought back to that day when he had met that odious girl. He had escaped the wrath of his nurse, Lanike. He had done his time serving supper to the soldiers and true to Kleitos' word had gone without his, but he did this proudly. When some compassionate trooper had offered a bit of bread or his supper, Alexander had denied his hunger by telling them he was on punishment detail and did not care to bring disappointment to Kleitos. Therefore, he did his chores and went to his rest slowly a tired little boy with his dog dragging along beside him.

He knew Lanike had wondered why he was so obedient that night of all nights. He had not fussed at being washed or having his curly, tangled hair combed, instead submitted to the nightly indignity with great stoicism.

"You will be proud of me," he told her as he gritted his teeth for the twelfth time as the comb snagged on a knot of blond curls. "I did my punishment well and did not fuss. It will serve me well when I am soldiering under my father in a year's time."

"A year is a long time, my lord. Ah, but for you with your burning curiosity and endless energy it will go by fast enough, I am sure of it. Still, do not grow too fast, for I will miss my little lord." She had gathered him up in her arms and kissed his cheek quickly before he could fuss about it. Thinking back on it now, he thought he did not mind too much when she kissed him. As long as it did not happen too often, it was something he could tolerate.

Feeling the soft familiar comfort of Phoenix by his side, and yawning widely, Alexander began to think a little nap was in order. He bunched his cloak into a thick pillow and stretched out. After the nap he would visit the barracks again, his stomach was growling and then he -

"Ah, I thought I might find you here. You are being called to your Mother's rooms."

Looking up quickly, Alexander found the grinning face of Timon bearing down on him. "Zeus take it! I cannot go. I'm on a scouting mission, we must remain quiet." Alexander answered as he gestured to Timon to crouch down beside him. "By Hera's peacock, Timon, you will give my position away!" He grumbled and was already creeping away on his hands and knees, but Timon was fast as him and swung down grasping his charge around the midsection.

Timon tried to stifle his laughter as Alexander kicked and swore at him. "Come, now Alexander, make no trouble for me, your lady mother requests your presence as soon as possible. What will Lanike say when she sees you? You wear half the mud in Pella on your legs."

"I care not! By Hera's black balls, I cannot come, I tell you. Tell her I've gone on assignment to Illyria, I've no time for women's stuff!" Suddenly Alexander found himself meeting the thick muddy ground and groped about quickly for his footing.

"Very well," Timon answered matter of factly. "Stay here, perhaps you'd rather visit with the lady Barsine who approaches with her nurse. They come at a slow pace, but I know I can call out to them that you await their company. I am sure she will most pleased to see you again." Timon watched as Alexander' blue eyes widened as though he had just heard the most terrible of news and scrambled up to his side.

"NO, by all that is sacred to Apollo, it cannot be! I begged, prayed to the gods. I have displeased them somehow." For a moment Alexander appeared calm, then moving quickly he muttered as if to himself. "She is the enemy and must be taken down. It is as with Herakles, a test, I must do this alone." Before he had time to draw breath Timon watched, Alexander gather a thick handful of mud. The boy marched toward the young girl and her nurse.

"No, Alexander!" Timon ran, but was not quick enough to catch his mud welding charge. Amid the wild barking of Phoenix and the angry shouts of the girl's old nurse, Timon saw Alexander slap a handful of mud into the face of a very surprised young girl. Before the nurse could move and the girl even utter a sound Alexander had turned and was walking very quickly toward the barracks. He shouted back over his small shoulder as he moved.

"Tell my mother I cannot come, I am on punishment detail until further notice." With a bewildered sigh, Timon thought that perhaps he too, should report there, for he cared not to imagine what the Lady Olympias' reaction would be to all this.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

Part V - Alexander meets Barsine

Summary: Barsine meets the Lady Olympias, Alexander' mother and plans revenge on her young tormentor.

* * *

Barsine sighed deeply, as loudly as she possibly could though staying at least an arm's length from her mother who would administer a good slap at the sound of her daughter's discontented sighs.

She was not discontented, Barsine told herself, merely, merely…she glanced around the richly appointed apartment. Well, perhaps a little bored. She had been corralled by her nurse upon rising and taken to her mother's apartments. From there they had gone to the apartments of the Lady Olympias. She knew the Lady was a princess from the kingdom of Epiros. She was the only one of King Phillip's wives with such a royal pedigree. Therefore, she had been the one to greet Barsine's mother and her women upon their arrival - which now seemed so long ago, she wondered if she would ever recall her own homeland. King Phillip's other wives had been present, of course, but there was a very clear delineation of who had status amongst them. While the Lady was not his first wife, or even his youngest, she was one of the most beautiful and royal. She had directed and presided over the reception for the women.

Their arrival had been graciously attended. Her mother had found nothing to fault in the spacious and well-furnished rooms that her family would stay in until they moved to the town house her father had purchased within Pella's generous confines. While the rooms they were in were off the main bulk of the palace's two-storied structure in outlying wings that had been added as King Phillip's family grew, when they were in residence in Pella, they were centered on a lovely courtyard with a fountain and many fruit trees.

She had seen only in passing the light airy chamber in which she was now forced to spend the rest of her day. Perhaps they would take some air after their noonday meal in one of the lovely gardens that she could see just out the far window. The gardens looked pleasant with tall cypress trees that acted as a windbreak for several flowering plants in pottery tubs. A life size bronze of the god Dionysius as a beautiful youth holding a grape vine stood in a grove of olive trees. The Lady Olympias was a priestess in his cult and had brought the statue with her from Epiros. Clearly, it was a private shrine and Barsine saw just behind the tall legs of the god a glimpse of golden hair as a small head bobbed into view. The _boy_ was behind the statue. Quickly she pulled herself upright and tried to peer through the window. She could just see a small hand placing a pile of something, most likely weeds, she decided, on the pedestal. She squirmed, trying not to draw attention to herself.

He was a puzzle. No, she corrected herself he was not a puzzle at all. He was an oddly engaging, yet irritating little child. She decided feeling a great deal older and worldlier than the young boy who stood before the cult statute on the grounds below. She peered outward watching as he came before the statue in a worshipful pose. It was all she could do not to tsk at the sight he presented. No worthy supplicant of any god was he! More like a small thief intent upon mischief or harm. His little mantle was disheveled and torn. His golden hair was a wild mane of unruly curls. He had woven a crown of ivy that sat lopsided upon his head. She could see a rangy little mutt standing next to him, which he gestured to sit, the beast sat upon its haunches and watched the little spectacle Alexander presented. He was doing some sort of weaving step around the statue and waving his arms about his head. His mouth was open and she could just hear the faintest high tones of a child's singing. It was amazingly sweet and she found herself frowning at the sound unable to couple it with the little terror that had tormented her of late.

She wrinkled her nose up trying not to laugh at his antics. Such a child he was! He was a little beast, a rude, uncontrolled, barbaric little monster. For a moment, she could still feel the cold slimy mud that he had slapped on her face the week previous. Even hearing that he had been locked in his rooms, beaten and denied supper did not please her. He had richly deserved his punishment, yes, but it was not enough. What had she done to him? What un…. Then she found herself blushing when she realized she had taunted him – perhaps even started it all. He was a very proud little boy, and wore his feelings for all to see. His little face showed them all too well.

Yet he had persisted, had he not slapping her in the face with mud? She had done nothing to him that day. Something would come to mind. There must be some way she could get even with him. She would think on it and pray. What she wanted, what she lusted for in her court-bred heart was to pay him back in kind. She would like to pick him up by the back of his filthy little cloak and toss him into the lake. That would satisfy her. Then, when he tried to climb out she would be there to pitch him back in again. Yes, that would please her most. To see those golden curls splattered with filthy water and mud.

Then she groaned and slouched down, quickly avoiding the slap from her mother's hand. No doubt should she pitch him into the lake he would just shout with glee and swim about like a little fish. She had heard from one of the palace slaves he had not liked being locked in his rooms. He had shouted and kicked at the door most terribly creating a loud racket and then cried himself to sleep. For a moment, the image of his little face wet with tears and frustration crossed her mind, he did have a very sweet little face when he was not pouting, screaming, or attacking her.

She screwed her lips up thinking how she had seen him rescue Mikros again this time from one of the great barn cats. He been scratched and bitten while rescuing Mikros. He had not uttered a cry or run for his nurse the whole time even though his arm had been bleeding rather badly. He had wrapped a trembling, bleeding Mikros in his mantle, and gently soothed her and brought her to one of the stable grooms for care. He had spent the night beside Mikros urging her to eat and protecting her from the other cats and animals that lived in the stables. She had been grateful for his protection of Mikros, hmm, Audnaeus, as he insisted on calling Mikros. In truth, she had found herself rather fascinated with the little miscreant and spied on him.

He loved his mother very much, that was clear. She had watched him bring her and his nurse, Hellanike fresh field flowers everyday. That was sweet, even if the roots were a bit scraggly and dirt covered. She smiled for a moment. For a week after he had hit her with the mud, he had left the white rose bud on the rim of the marble courtyard fountain where she took sun every noon hour. This she knew because she had seen him, one day, creeping away on tiptoe after setting it down carefully. He had stopped suddenly, his blue eyes very wide when she had coughed softly while staying hidden behind a marble latticework. It had been hard to stifle her laughter as his small face had screwed up with worry as he had then run nosily from the courtyard.

As a more severe punishment, she had heard he had been denied the barracks and kept strictly with the other children for a week. The daily placement of the white rose had co-incided with this. This further punishment had been at the request of Black Kleitos, who seemed to understand Alexander well. If, indeed, this had caused him to mend his ways with respect to her, she was thankful, but for a moment reflected how proudly his face had glowed as he had marched himself toward the barracks for punishment. He may be a child, but there was something beyond that in him, as well, and this man, knew it and seemed to know how to bring out the best in the tempestuous little boy.

Then remembering how he had stomped her favorite veil beneath his feet, she waved away her kinder feelings.

Barsine turned her head back toward the conversation. She noticed that her mother was watching her intently, but the Lady was smiling gently at her as though she understood her little son and the irritation he could rouse in people.

She liked the Lady Olympias and felt that perhaps it would not be so bad to spend some time here. It was not that the chamber was unpleasant. On the contrary, the rooms were quite lovely and restful. The scent of roses and juniper filled the air. Beeswax candles burned in highly polished holders and vases of freshly cut flowers further scented the air.

Clearly, the Lady Olympias had an eye for the finer things. Barsine sat now before a dressing table of gilded ebony wood with long slender legs. The top was green marble. Her mother and the Lady reclined on a pair of light couches trimmed in violet fabric hung with gold bullion. All the furnishings were graceful of olive wood or ebony highly polished. There were some very fine Egyptian pieces. Barsine rubbed her bare feet against the thick colorful rugs that covered the slick, cold marble floors. The thick nap of the carpeting felt good against her bare soles.

Her fingers outlined silver filigree work on a casket of ivory that held the Lady's jewels. Her perfume bottles were of similar designs. Barsine decided that she would like just such a jewel casket – perhaps when she was older. She leaned forward, her fingers itching to sample the scent from the bottles scattered along the tabletop.

"Try this one it is a favorite of mine." A long slender hand reached out pulling the stopper from a glass perfume bottle. Rich resins that spoke of Egypt, gardenia, jasmine, and orange blossom floated out teasing Barsine's senses. Gently Olympias daubed some along Barsine's wrist.

"It smells of oranges." Barsine said softly hiding a nervous smile. The Lady was so beautiful, and she felt so small and imperfect next to her tall, slender form. Pale red gold curls glinted in the morning sunlight. Long golden earrings dangled from small ears. Barsine studied the woman sitting next to her. She was every inch a queen. Suddenly Barsine felt pleased that the Lady had singled her out to spend time with rather than her sisters. She dipped her head toward her wrist smelling the precious oil at the pulse point. She studied her toes. The tips had been painted a soft pink by one of the Lady's slaves. Perhaps when she was older she would have her toes painted and recline with her guests on purple cushions.

Then Barsine allowed her gaze to settle upon the only discordant note in the room. A small white marble vase with a handful of scraggly looking wild flowers stood next to the Lady's bed. Clearly, the flowers had been picked from some field, and there was no eye for the design of the arrangement. The motley looking bouquet had the mark of Alexander all over it. In her mind's eye, she could see him trotting into his mother's immaculate rooms. Trailing a path of mud and crumbs of some sort then thrusting the dirt-laden flowers into her hands. He would no doubt look up at his mother with those wide blue eyes of his that could be so beguiling, receive a kiss, and pat on the head for his gesture.

"I understand, Barsine, that you have met my son, Alexander." Laughter floated through Olympias' voice. "He is very spirited, isn't he?"

Barsine squirmed uncomfortably against the softness of the cushions. Could the Lady read one's mind? She shuddered suddenly in fear some called the Lady a witch. That she did not believe, but she did love her little son, that Barsine knew and like her own mother when it came to her brothers was no doubt probably blind to the transgression and faults of her child.

"I…. Yes, my Lady."

The Lady's laughter floated through the room. "Truly, I understand your discomfort. I too have fallen prey to his ways. Yes, even I, his mother am not immune to the chaos he can create about him. He is like a small whirlwind, I think. His coming leaves one often unsettled and sometimes shaken, perhaps for different reasons, yet we will never be the same after he has gone on, leaving us behind to wonder what happened. He may be disagreeable at times, I will grant you that, he is after all still a very young boy, and a much love and petted one, perhaps too much so, but you will I think, never forget him."

Barsine, did not know how to answer, but merely smiled the polite court smile she had been taught long ago as a small child.

"Your eyes are very expressive, Barsine, they tell what you will not say." Barsine watched the Lady Olympias go toward some great wooden chests that stood along one wall. The scent of fresh lavender wafted through the air. The Lady turned with a good length of the finest pale blue-green gauze in her hands. The color called to mind the polish of peacock feathers, which the light played up as she held it in her hands. The color was delicate and very pale, not a sky blue, but deeper like that of a jewel. She added to this a thin chain of the palest pink pearls.

"This will suit you very well, I think." The material was so fine that it looked like spiders had spun it. It floated as though held on the air by invisible hands. "I would that you will take this, in place of the veil that he ruined. It was not well done of him to destroy your things."

"Thank you, Lady," Barsine whispered softly, inclining her head to show her gratitude. Her fingers grasped the delicate material and pearls. She was not unused to riches but the unexpected gift pleased her girlish fancy. The pearls were cool and smooth against her cheek and the fabric smelt faintly of a scent she knew she would always come to associate with Olympias, orange blossoms, lavender, and jasmine. She smiled again at the Lady feeling for the first time since she had left her home that she was welcome here in this wild northern land of the Hellenes.

To be continued…


	6. Chapter 6

Part IV, Alexander Meets Barsine

_About a year later._

_(Sorry for the long delay in this story, here's the rest of it.)_

* * *

Months passed quickly. Alexander had not seen much of Barsine nor she of him as the year passed. She, kept more strictly to the women's quarters was busy preparing her bridal trunks for her marriage to Memnon the brother of Mentor, whom her sister was to marry. She had little time for the small boy who seemed to have made her early days at Pella so unpleasant. She was past her thirteenth year now and would marry within the next year. When she thought of Alexander, it was mostly in passing, hoping she would not have a child like him when she was a mother.

For Alexander he greeted his sixth year with great eagerness and reminded all who would listen that already at six Achilles had fought lions and bears. He announced with great enthusiasm that he would like to do just this himself. He had not gained much growth, but was full of energy and had two new young foot Companions assigned to his small guard him besides Timon who was his constant shadow. It had been a busy year for him. He had been given a new pony. _Kalos_, his first pony had broken a leg and had to be put down. It had distressed him a great deal and he had cried for an entire week. His new mount, a milk white pony with a grey blaze on its right cheek, which he called Helios, thrilled him. He could be seen most days riding around the outer yards of the palace and in the army's drill fields. When not taken up with this he began practice under Ptolemy's direction, with a small, but perfectly crafted replica of a soldier's sword. The wood _kopis_ and small shield were his greatest pride next to Helios and he along with a little band of other boys would often terrorize the younger children of the household with their shrill cries and battle paeans. Added to his new skill with the sword he began lessons with the bow and drew great pride in showing early skill at this.

He went riding with the soldier's and on hunting trips with a special guard, his father had assigned him. He learned to hunt rabbit, squirrel, and other small beasts. Proudly, he shot his first rabbit for the shared pot on bright fall morning. His life was full of pleasures, fishing in the foamy rivers, riding, playing war with his friends, hunting for ripe berries in the summerwoods and swimming or boating in the Pella lagoon.

He spent quiet hours in his mother's rooms, full of his favorite foods, petted and stroked lovingly as he was lulled to sleep with stories and songs of the great heroes of Troy.

Often he and Timon, with his Foot Companions guard, would stride out to the busy harbor that brought ships from all over Hellas and beyond to fill the city with the world's riches. There they would listen to the stories of the sailors, taste the exotic sweets from other lands and gaze upon the rich goods from Athens, Corinth, Rhodes, Egypt, Phoenicia, Syracuse and the Greek cities on the Ionia coast. Alexander dreamed of traveling to these far away places, meeting the peoples, learning their customs, perhaps even leading them himself as had Thesus when he founded Athens, or even Perseus father of the Persians.

One lazy summer day, he was allowed into the audience hall with his father after an official audience, and made a new friend, Hephaistion son of Amyntor. For a while, the two boys were seen about everywhere as Amyntor had brought his son with him to Pella while he conducted business with the King. Then after a period of a month, they returned to their family estates in the Vermious' mountains'. In spite of his other friends, Alexander was lonely after Hephaistion left and soon found himself at odds with a bigger boy that had lately attached himself to his little group of friends.

To be continued….


	7. Chapter 7

Part VII, Alexander Meets Barsine

Takes up after Part VI

* * *

The noonday sun was high, almost at its zenith, and all around the courtyard, it seemed every living thing was lazy with sleep. The soft buzz of crickets seemed the perfect accompaniment to such a day. Singing a wordless little tune Barsine left her perch at the marble fountain. A new bale of fabrics had come from Athens and she and mother had been pouring over it along with her sister chattering about the lovely clothes the rich silks and fine wool gowns they would make.

A blooming bush of red roses beckoned and she decided she would pluck a few and bring them to her nurse who was lately in bed with a sick headache. She bent to her task and then frowned. The strident, taunting voice of a young boy disturbed her concentration. He was belittling someone rather viciously.

"You are nothing but a stupid child who cannot fight. Your father is ashamed of you. I know for I heard him say just this to my father. He is sorry you were not exposed at birth on the mountains." Barsine's eyes widened – she knew and understood the perceived insult. It was a terrible insult indeed.

"I will kill you for that." She began to laugh almost pleased when she realized who was being taunted, but held her breath. It was as though something inside of herself told her to wait. Stealthily she crept away from the bushes, checking behind her to see that she was not observed. She reached a fence of cypress trees, and peeked between them. She could see the merest sketch of two pairs of legs. One set was tall and skinny, the other pair of legs, splotched with mud and covered with bruises and scratches she recognized. She found herself flinching as she heard the thud of flesh against flesh. The boy hitting Alexander was his size twice over. It was clearly an unfair fight. A single soft cry rose in the air then stopped abruptly. She watched as Alexander fell back after being punched in the stomach. He was shaking all over, she could see it, but whether from fear or rage she could not tell. She frowned again and turned her head at the sound that issued from his lips, it was a high wild sound, keening and full of hot fury For a moment it crossed her mind were he a man calling out and looking as he was just now she would fear for the life of the boy who was taunting him. It seemed that something, some force, was being held back inside of his small frame. She shuddered thinking when it was finally unleashed it would bring terrible destruction and death to any who crossed him.

"You cry like a girl!" A red haired boy about the size and age of her ten-year-old brother was smacking Alexander. Alexander's nose was bleeding and his face was bright red with anger. He was kicking and pummeling his attacker, but his small frame was no match for the older boy. She watched as with a loud cry he launched himself headfirst at the other boy bringing them both down. They rolled along the ground. The red haired boy caught Alexander's head in his hands and bit his ear. Alexander screamed and pounded his small fists against his assailant's head. There was blood everywhere and the larger boy grabbed Alexander around the neck and began to choke him. Barsine found herself shaking as she watched Alexander sputter and cough as he tried to wrench the other boy's hands from about his neck. He was too small and hadn't the strength to stop him.

"Stop that! Stop it, stop! You are bigger than he. It is not a fair fight!" Barsine bounded forth, a small, flying fury of blue that landed like a furious windmill. She beat her fists against the red-haired boy's head and neck, pounding him as hard as she could. She pulled on his hair until he screamed and tufts of it came out in her hands. His hands loosed from Alexander's neck, but still she beat him mercilessly. When he tried to crawl away, she began to kick him cursing him.

Turning to Alexander who lay unmoving on the ground Barsine wiped away some of the blood from his face. He opened his eyes and blinked several times. He sniffed a bit as he studied her. He didn't stop her ministrations but rather allowed them. She noticed he was pushing out his lower lip, and huffing loudly, something she knew by now was a sign of distress for him. He was bare moments away from crying. He would not thank her if she witnessed it, but she felt uncomfortable leaving him. He was after all his loud bravado, just a small boy, a very small boy. Thinking quickly she rose to her feet and clapped her hands wiping dust and blood from them.

"You are very brave for so small a warrior. I would think Memnon and his men could learn something of courage from you. That was most unfair of him, not well done at all. I hope you broke his nose." She grinned widely – he studied her silently and then slowly a smile blossomed on his face. The blood from his nose had reduced to a trickle, but his upper lip was badly cut and blood was pouring from it. His golden curls were dust covered and his chiton was in shreds. The other boy, Kassandros was hobbling off moaning and making so much noise that both, she and Alexander began to laugh.

"I did not hurt him that badly. He exaggerates all things." Alexander said as he pulled himself up. She sat down beside him, not caring that her gown would be soiled and torn. Then he began to giggle loudly and fell back down slapping his little hands together as he rolled about on the grass. "Wait, I will tell everyone he was beaten by a girl. He will never show his face again to me. He is a bully always after any child smaller than he. However," Alexander wrinkled up his small-bloodied nose and giggled loudly, "I know one boy who can best him, my friend Hephaistion, Amyntor's son. You've not met him, have you? He does not come often to court, his home being some distance there, in those hills." He pointed west toward higher peaks where the faintest glimpse of snow caught in the bright sunlight. "His father does keep a house here in Pella, for his purposes, he works some way for my father, and he has brought Hephaistion to court. You'll like him, he tells the best stories." Their voices caught like wildfire, filled with laughter and joy as they sat in the early afternoon sunlight, suddenly two allies rather than enemies.

To be continued….


	8. Chapter 8

Final Chapter, Alexander Meets Barsine

_Sometime after the fall of Gaza. Alexander meets Barsine again. _

* * *

Their eyes met across the expanse of open space between them. The Lady Barsine, daughter of Artabazos had dismissed her women and eunuchs upon his arrival, though he could see their watchful faces in the light in the doorway just beyond the rooms' far exit. He did not mind that they kept a watchful eye. That made his job easier. She began to enter the room, then bowed low and explained that she must retire for a moment.

He began to pace about, feeling suddenly anxious. Her quarters were fragrant with the scent of rose and jasmine. The gentle light from the braziers cast warm shadows in the deep corners of the room. Feeling a slight reprieve Alexander fell into thought.

When he had captured the royal Persian women, he had set his own guards at the entrance to the women's royal enclave. A quick execution would meet any who ignored his order that the women not be bothered. He had been at great pains to be careful to offer no insult to any of them. Well, he would offer no insult beyond that which he had already unwittingly offered.

Alexander sighed, thinking again on the Royal Queen Mother, Sissygambias, a woman he had come to admire and revere greatly. It had not been his intention to offer insult, but rather something to ease the long hours and anxiety. When he had thought of was his own mother and sisters and cousins, kept busy at their loom, he had felt that he would offer some comfort. Had he known the insult he had offered with his simple gesture... He studied the room and what it might tell him about the woman who lived within its silken walls. Did she, being part Persian consider the loom beneath her too? What of the part that was Greek, had that part remained at all, was she now all-Persian? Would she even acknowledge that they had once known one another, had once been something of friends? Ah, but that was so long ago and so much time, and life had passed by since then.

He sighed, his thoughts again going to Sissygambias. The woman fascinated him; she had the mental strength of any man he had ever met whom he considered an equal. His regret that he had upset for even a moment was still upon him. To suggest that a woman of royal Persian blood weave her kinsman's clothes with her owns hand, to suggest that was akin to making war upon them twice over. He knew this now, why had someone not told him of it before?

He grumbled a bit beneath his breath, damning Parmenion, the interfering old vulture, and even Artabazos. They both knew well were and how to apply pressure. Parmenion he had listened with half an ear to, but Artabazos, well that was another thing altogether. He could not offer the man scorn and to turn down the offer of his daughter Barsine. That would have been insult, and in spite of his own dislike of the matter, he would not insult the older man. They had trapped him well. Alexander' sighed loudly and began to recount the recent events that brought him here.

After the omen's of late, being as they were, Parmenion had decided to put on full pressure. Already, there had been an attack on his person. His fingers played across his chest, the assassin's knife had just missed, within a hair's breath, any closer and…

The attack had taken him off guard. He had chided himself later shocked he had not sensed it in the man's demeanor, the smell of his sweat, perhaps a very subtle movement in the assassin's hand, but there had been nothing to warn him. Only his own quick movements and Hephaistion's quick eye had saved him. Of course, the addition of the wound he had taken had only added to things. He shoulder still ached, but he ignored it. It was healed well enough to suit him. Let the old men gossip and wag their tongues like old women; it was the cost of war. To him it mattered little. In the end he had gained Gaza, and that is all that counted.

After that though, even Hephaistion had come to him to plead Parmenion's case. That had truly done it. He had not begged, nor pleaded as had Parmenion, he had instead merely spoken gently, lovingly. Zeus take him! He would get him back for it, somehow. He allowed a small smile to play along his lips as he rubbed his shoulder. It was still bothersome. Hmmm, when he was better healed, a good bout in the palestra... Yes, he would enjoy pounding Hephaistion's bright curls into the sand.

Of course, his argument had been the worst, for he knew where to strike deep, where to reach inward, pull out the fears and concerns, and allay them with simple wisdom. Reclining on his supper couch, looking into Hephaistion's eyes, those violet blue orbs that could see straight through him, he knew he had lost and would have to give out. There, within the silence that lay between them like the unplucked chord on a kithara, Hephaistion had moved to him, kissed him gently.

Up until then he had been as Dionysius, free to roam, his only bidding that of the gods and his heart. Now…for a moment he had mourned something he himself could not put a name to, a loss of something within himself. Only Hephaistion knew this and acknowledged it. It was for that reason and that reason alone he had agreed.

"Nai, sometimes it is as though he knows me better than I know myself." Alexander muttered softly, lost in his contemplations.

The silken whisper of her garments announced Barsine before she re-entered the chamber. He found himself intrigued with graceful flutter of the long sleeves of her costume as she glided toward him accepting the gift of lilies he placed therein.

Alexander glanced about noting the tasteful furnishings, the vases of flowers, groupings of small tables and tableaux of colorful silken pillows tossed artfully into deep piles on the jewel bright carpets. A harp was playing softly in a distant room. The melody was soothing to his ears. He grinned at Barsine's spare smile. For a moment, he could not think what to say. So many thoughts went through his head upon seeing her again. She looked well, he noted with thanks. He had feared that the Persian women might yet harm themselves. It was a business he had not reckoned on having to take on.

As she came closer she kept her face averted, her expression carefully controlled. He watched her give orders to a slave who took the flowers carefully.

He was curious, after all the years that had passed between them – and Memnon. She had been his first, even when they had first met as children she had been hand- fasted to him.

He found himself frowning, thinking on the Rhodian. Zeus Savior, I thank you for the blessing of his death, he whispered soft to himself. _Atropos_ had lifted her shining, sharp blade and the thread of Memnon's life had crumpled. It could just have well have been his. He thanked the gods it was not and that he was still victorious.

Alexander closed his eyes briefly thinking on the havoc the man would have caused had he lived. He almost laughed then caught himself, upon his realization that Memnon had done a good deal of damage already. The siege of Halicarnassus had been bitterly fought and won. The man, who had studied with his father and under Parmenion had come dangerously close to unnerving him. He had guessed at his strategies, his tactics in a way that no other had been able. No other save one, and that man, thank Hera was on his side. He smiled thinking on Krateros.

Mentally he shook himself, well, he had no cause to be unkind, no indeed, he recalled to himself. He was the victor _Nike_ had come to him and stood now at his side. He could, would be kind.

Barsine was now a woman grown and mother several times over. Was she his prisoner? Perhaps, he weighed the thought in his mind. He did not make war on women and felt nothing compelling him to force her to accept his company. He knew well the way that such things had to commence. He did not wish to offer her any affront. Should she deny his request, he would graciously accept it and return to his own quarters. Damn Parmenion to _Haides_ should he press him further. It was not to his liking, nor interest. His heart lay elsewhere. Only Hephaistion knew and he would not speak of it past their intimacies. It still shocked him, this knowledge of how it could be with women, so long had he been under the spell of _Aphrodite Urania_. She had reigned supreme with his love of Hephaistion and that had by no means diminished.

If only Parmenion could understand, feel as he felt, that he was asking him to answer to _Aphrodite Pandemos, _to thelittle concerns of the body. It was not so much that Barsine was a woman that mattered little. The _other_ was a woman, yet when in her presence it was as with Hephaistion, _Aphrodite Urania_ reigned in his heart, though not Eros. No, only with Hephaistion was Eros supreme. That was who he was in his Soul, this is what Hephaistion knew and why only he could bring him round to do this thing.

Into the silence between them came the patter of soft, quick paws. Something slid into the room, as though it had been melded in the shadows and freed itself. A sharp meow and then a great cat, a creature long of leg and slender leapt into Barsine's arms. Like a fish darting through shining water, it moved swiftly. She caught it up and cuddled it like a baby in her arms.

"Kurus is the descendent of Mikros." Barsine rubbed the silvery fur against her face. Alexander could hear the loud purr. Then she smiled at him full out, there was nothing held back, nothing. "Recall you Mikros?" He felt himself blush she was smiling roguishly, and held out the great beast. He stumbled back a moment then took the cat in his arms.

"Ah, yes." He replied trying to decide how to hold the animal that seemed to be studying him with searching green eyes. He met them suddenly recalling another pair of bright green eyes that had looked up into his face so. That had been many, many years ago.

"The kitten."

"Yes." There was a smile in her voice. "It scratched your hand. You were quite small." She was grinning at him, he saw the flash of her white teeth, then her face composed.

"Kurus?" He gestured toward the animal that had pushed at his hands with a strong, large paw to be released. "The Great Kurus?"

"My youngest son named him. Yes." She smiled and gestured for the cat to come to her. It jumped with one lithe, fluid movement back into her embrace.

"It is a mighty name for a cat." He looked at the beast that stared back at him from within the safe grasp of her arms.

"I, ah, prefer dogs. I've a good hound, Peritas. He's a good dog." He felt silly suddenly hearing the words spill from his lips. By Zeus, Alexander, he cursed himself, why are you suddenly tongue-tied?

"Yes, dogs are also good companions."

"There are many cats that run about the camp, of course. Kittens and such, they keep the camp free of vermin." He offered the comment and then looked about quickly, anywhere he thought to hide his face. She seemed to be able to seek him out with her eyes, those great black flashing eyes that had laughed at him. Perhaps he would go. He stood for a moment suddenly feeling very foolish.

"Alexander," Barsine had let go the cat and was holding out her hand. It reached out into the space between them. It was a long slender hand, the fingers exquisitely be-ringed and scented. Gently he grasped it in his own and raised it to his lips. Her skin was cool and very soft. For a moment, he was reluctant to let it go. As though holding onto her hand kept him linked to another time, a time that was gentler and perhaps, he was surprised for a moment when the thought hit him, kinder.

"My Lady Barsine, will you allow me to grant whatever comfort you and your entourage may require? Will you allow me the pleasure of your company in private?" He asked carefully, almost holding his breath. Did he wish her to deny him or grant his request? She rewarded him with another open, sweet smile.

"Of course, my Lord, I am ever your servant." She sketched a small bow to him. He realized then she had not prostrated herself to him when he had entered the tent. The thought made him smile and he thought suddenly of the very young girl he had fought with that day, so long ago, in the gardens of Pella. Therefore, there was still some Greek in her. Her green veil had fluttered about her on the gentle breeze as they had clashed. Looking into her face his met a countenance that was utterly open to him. It spoke of the same memories, the childhood fights, the shared secrets, the midnight raid on the kitchens, his spying on she and her ladies. He grinned.

"You have caught me unawares, I think." He offered she inclined her head in his direction. He noticed the black hair piled high upon her head beneath the sheer veil. Some configuration of intricate braids strung with small pearls ran though the shining stands. The veil was the palest of pink tints, almost as though _Eos_ had left the stain of dawn from her fingertips upon the fine fabric. It rustled as she moved her head. He thought then of his mother. It was so long since he had seen her. Did she still dress her hair every day as she had, sitting before her mirror? He remembered playing there at her side a very tiny boy. He recalled a veil, something filmy, floating around him, carrying toward him guided by his mother's fingers. Suddenly he was flooded with long forgotten memories and emotions. They threatened to drown him, and taunted with his composure.

"Ah, forgive me, I…find myself… at a loss." He found himself blinking back unexpected tears and began to step back, intent upon leaving, when she smiled and held out her hand. He took it she led him toward a couch and clapped her hands.

"I have known loss, too, Alexander." Her smile was gentle and spoke of understanding. Servants appeared wine was poured, a sweet white vintage that tasted slightly of apples. He thought of the blooming apple trees at Agai and the Dionysia there in early spring. Her veil fluttered about her again, as she seated herself at his feet. For a moment Alexander closed his eyes remembering the long meadows of still damp grass, bright and green, and falling apple blossoms, the cool breath of morning and rising early for the festival, the joy of the theatre and the excitement of studying the wares in the booths of the trades people in the Agora afterward.

He recalled suddenly he had bought a puppet one Dionysia, a small cloth headed puppet of Herakles when he was eight. He had entertained the other children with it. He, his sisters and her sisters and brothers, they had eaten sweet apples and honey cakes afterward. Their voices had been like bright birds chirping in the budding trees around them. Her voice spoke of these things. He felt himself relax, the tension draining from his muscles and he reclined back upon the couch. He found himself immersed in the swift graceful movements of her hands. He felt tears sting the back of his eyes and suddenly without knowing how or why he felt it in some part of himself that he had come home. It surprised him, this need that was still within him.

He took the wine offered him and sipped it slowly. Yes, he could do this, for now, at least.

Finis


End file.
